The tit and the wood mouse

Watership Down, Hampshire Brave, then, the creature that tries to pluck the nut from between the wires. But brave this wood mouse is

Head dipped in shining black oil and marinated in nervousness, a marsh tit has started coming to the feeder for the first time since last winter. Until now it would have been in the wet beech and ash woods that cover the steep north face of the chalk down; an example of the anciently named "hangers" so beloved of Gilbert White.

But in this corner of the downs a cold snap has brought the marsh tit to the closely wired nuts hanging from the wall of the stone smokehouse.